That Special Lass
by Ec1aire
Summary: Written from Brynjolf's POV. An insight into his thoughts and feelings when Mercer returns from Snow Veil Sanctum alone. One shot. May contain spoilers, you have been warned.


**That Special Lass**

It's been days. Not a single one of us expected Mercer to do something so drastic, but he did it anyway. Not only did he go on a suicide mission for revenge, he also took _her_ with him. What was he thinking? She's not exactly a professional, yet he decided on taking her on a mission that's dangerous even for him. I don't think anyone wants to expect anything, but none of us hold much hope. Every time the hatch opens, whoever notices looks up hopefully, only to be disappointed. Before she came along, the Thieves' Guild was like a dysfunctional family. Nothing really worked smoothly. Then everything changed because of her, and we found ourselves closer, more in sync. She turned a band of chaotic thieves into a band of organised thieves. To most people, that wouldn't matter, but she brought us all closer.

I notice the faint squeak of the trap door and can't resist looking up from my seated position against a wall. Couldn't be bothered with a chair, so I decided to use the floor and wall instead. Not that much difference, really. I am surprised to see Mercer limping in, blood streaming down the side of his face and his right leg. Everyone stands and looks expectantly at him. Mercer looks me in the eye, and there is something sparking there. I don't like it.

He shakes his head so that everyone can see. 'Karliah killed her. There was nothing I could do.'

I try to remain composed, but it's not easy when it feels like your entire body is being eaten by grief and despair. 'Is Karliah dead?' I ask, with a foreignly hoarse voice.

Mercer frowns. 'No. She escaped before I could finish her off.' He sighs, before walking - albeit unsteadily - into the next room.

The Cistern is silent. The only sound that can be heard is the water falling from the streets above. A dark void starts spreading over my body, consuming everything. I've lost people before, many people, people I've cared for. But never has it felt so... painful. So emptying. My hand seeks my pocket, where the lass's spare house key resides. She gave it to me as a just-in-case. "You may find you need it." She told me as she pressed it into my hand. "Keep it, just-in-case something goes wrong." I look at the small piece of metal in my fingers.

Squeezing the key in my now fisted hand, I walk briskly towards the secret door. I climb out and make my way through the city, not even bothering to remain hidden. I see people turn to glare at me, but something on my face makes them stop. Flashes of pity cross a few people's faces, but I try not to let my grief destroy me. At least not yet.

I take the key and unlock the door to Honeyside with shaking hands. I look around, and am hit by her presence wherever I turn. The neatness of the place, the soft whiff of blood and dirt, masked by the sweet scent of mountain flowers. I descend into the basement, and come across armour mannequins and weapon racks. The whole place screams of her influence, and this time I can't hold back the sorrow that overwhelms me. I sink to my knees, gripping the key in my hand as if my life depends on it. And maybe it does, because suddenly my entire existence seems depleted. The sturdy woman that walked into the market that day, her eyes hinting at untold tales of adventures and lies and heartache. Her strong, muscular form covered by heavy armour I didn't recognise, a scar trailing down the length of her arm. The tangled mass of red hair trailing down the length of her back. How could I resist? She was wealthy, I could tell. A nobleman's daughter, maybe? Or an avid treasure seeker? The latter seemed most likely. My heart shatters as I remember all the time we spent together, laughing, joking, just generally having a good time. I can't stand life without her. Suddenly my drive has vanished. Nothing seems to have any point anymore. There's no purpose to anything. Her absence is clear here, but I haven't the strength to leave. Not yet. I need to mourn first. To remember everything good about her. There's a lot to remember. Her devious smile, the spark of fire in her eyes, her deft hands and skill as a thief. Her pleasant mood, easy-going attitude and ability to make anyone love her...

I shake my head. I can't take it anymore. I square my shoulders and stand, meaning to leave here and not look back. It hurts too much, being in her house. So I climb the ladder and head for the door. That's when a note catches my eye. It says "Brynjolf" on the front.

I pause, wanting yet not wanting to open it. Sighing shakily, I pick it up and unfold it. "Brynjolf. I'm sorry to have to tell you this in this manner, but if you're reading this then it means I haven't come back. And I'll bet my left foot Mercer has. I know I shouldn't say this, but I don't trust him. At all. There's more to this mission than you might think. It's more than just a desire for revenge. This woman, Karliah, I think she knows something, and Mercer wants to kill her so this information doesn't come to light. Ignore this if you want, but I'm guessing he's back. If I'm dead, then I want you to keep an eye on Mercer. A close eye. Because, even after Karliah dies (if she dies), this won't be over. Your lass. P.S. Ily."

I frown. What does "ily" mean? I shake my head again. The lass apparently isn't losing a foot. I guess it does seems suspicious that Mercer returned and she didn't, and isn't grieving in any way. I know the man is cold, but this is fairly extreme, even for him. I carefully fold the note away and place it in my pocket, with her door key, filled will a renewed sense of purpose and determination. I have to do this. For her, as her dying wish.


End file.
